Page 72 of Cursed By Gold

Nearby, Lord Greystone's annoying voice carries over the crowd as he talks with nobles seeking his favor. They laugh loudly at his bad jokes, hoping to get on his good side. Greystone looks very pleased with himself. He doesn't even glance my way.

I frown, feeling uneasy. I know Greystone has a shady past gambling and chasing women. But now he's suddenly popular with the royal court, like his reputation doesn't matter. When did all these vipers start sucking up to him so hard? Something strange is going on here. But right now Greystone holds all the cards. The thought leaves a gross taste in my mouth.

Shaking off my misgivings, I put on a smile again as I continue through the festivities. Whatever plots and schemes churn behind the scenes, today is about bringing cheer to the people. I cling to that purpose, pushing down the helplessness gnawing beneath my breastbone. I can only live in this moment. Tomorrow's trials will come soon enough.

Just as my mind was distracted from my least favorite person here - Greystone's grating voice sounds behind me. "Scarlet, my treasure! There you are." Before I can react, he presses against my back and slides a jewel-encrusted bracelet onto my wrist. "A small token for my future bride."

I plaster on a smile and resist the urge to hurl the gaudy thing into the dirt. "You spoil me, my lord." My skin crawls as he nuzzles my neck possessively. I cannot stomach his touches, not when my naive heart still yearns for another.

"Nonsense, you deserve the world," Greystone murmurs as onlookers titter and stare. "Come, you must sample the fowl. It’s delicious."

He steers me to the banquet table before I can object and piles my plate obscenely high. I force myself to nibble daintily under his watchful gaze, my stomach churning. All I want is to flee this false charade, but appearances rule my days now. I’ve turned down my only hope of escaping this fate. If I fail the last trial tomorrow and don’t win the trials as a whole, marrying Lord Greystone is my only option. Greystone's investment in my stepmother's estate has us both in golden shackles. The thought nearly drowns me and I am already wading too deep in my emotions today dealing with the king.

"Wonderful as always," I lie demurely, continuing the slow torture of my plate. Greystone preens, but his satisfied smile slips when a harried maid spills wine down his doublet.

"Clumsy wench! This is Atrian silk!" he thunders. My pulse spikes in alarm at his fury. The surrounding conversations quiet.

The maid pales, stammering apologies and bowing low. I step between them before Greystone can raise a hand. "My lord, do not trouble yourself. The dressmakers can easily remove a small stain."

Greystone's eyes flash dangerously at my interference. With effort, he smooths his features to haughty indifference. "Of course, you are right. But the help should mind their place." His stare bores warningly into me before he turns on his heel. "Come, Scarlet. I grow tired of these meager festivities."

My nails bite into my palms in frustration as I allow him to escort me away. A cold knot of anger twists in my gut. He acts as though he already owns me.

Outside the square, Greystone shoves me against a shadowed wall. "Do not undermine me again, wife," he hisses. "You belong to me. It would be unwise to resist your duties." His smile turns cruel. "Unless you wish your dear stepmother to find herself...homeless?"

Rage and despair war within me. I long to drive my dagger through his black heart. But my family's fate hangs by a financial thread only Greystone can secure. I don’t care so much if my stepmother is homeless, but by making that happen, I would lose my inheritance as well. So I bow my head in apparent submission.

"Forgive me," I grit out. "I spoke rashly."

Greystone grasps my chin almost gently. "I know change is difficult. But you will learn obedience in time." With a patronizing kiss to my forehead, he releases me. "Now stay and help clean this mess. I'm returning to my estate." He sweeps away smugly.

Only after he vanishes around a corner do I release a shuddering breath. A familiar ache of helplessness threatens to pull me under. But I force my spine straight and head back to thebustling square. I will finish this task with chin high, no matter how inescapable my cage seems now.

Once I rejoin the volunteers, the work of soothing ruffled feathers and clearing the feast proves a welcome distraction. By the time the sun sinks below the city walls, little evidence remains of the day's festivities. Weary to the bone, I slip into an alley shortcut towards the guild tavern, wanting only to drown my sorrows away for a night.

Raised voices and the crackle of magic make me freeze just before turning the corner. Risking a peek around the crumbling brick, my eyes widen. Half a dozen masked figures in thieves' garb surround none other than King Remme, weaving violent spells. His head guard lies crumpled against the far wall. My heart leaps into my throat.

The king fights like a cornered wolf, vicious and desperate, but the attackers slowly force him back. As one assailant binds his legs in shimmering wire, another strikes his chest with a bolt of energy. He crashes hard onto the grimy cobblestones with a pained shout.

Time seems to slow. I should run, get help...but these men could kill Remme before anyone arrived. They seem prepared, too prepared. Ice-cold calm settles over me. Sometimes you must deal with threats personally. Cursing under my breath, I tear several strips from my gown's silk hem and wrap them around my head and face - a thin disguise, but it will have to suffice.

Taking a deep breath, I slip one of Fairy Godmother's paralysis darts and a throwing knife into each palm. Then I step silently into the alley's mouth.

Two of the assailants have their backs to me. I let the darts fly, striking them both in the neck before they realize I'm there. They drop like stones. The others whirl, snarling curses. I fling myknives in rapid succession, catching two more in the chest and shoulder. They fall screaming.

The final masked pair charge recklessly, hurling twin fireballs. I somersault beneath the sizzling arcs of flame. As I roll to my feet, I draw my daggers and slash viciously at the nearest foe's hamstrings. He collapses with a howl.

The last one tries fleeing but I tackle him fiercely, pinning him against the alley wall and pressing both blades to his throat. "Who sent you?" I demand. But he only gurgles blood through the knife slashes on his neck. Snarling in frustration, I knock him unconscious with the dagger hilt.

Trembling with adrenaline, I scan the bodies to ensure all are neutralized. My disguise seems intact but my skirts are badly shredded from the fight revealing the Triple G’s tattoo on my thigh. I freeze as my eyes land on Remme, stirring weakly as the binding spell around his legs fades. There's no time - I have to disappear before he sees me.

I sheathe my daggers and melt into the nearest shadows, pulse pounding. A few frantic turns later, I'm sprinting full tilt for the guild tavern, mind racing. How could King Remme have been ambushed and left undefended like that? What will I do if he saw anything to identify me. The dress is new and I can toss it and change in the guild tavern so he never sees it again. My stomach sinks. I can only pray he did not glimpse my face through the thin covering or tattoo in the chaos.

As soon as I arrive at the tavern I change hastily, throwing the dress and face covering into the hearth at the tavern and swapping my slashed gown for nondescript trousers and tunic.

I want desperately to check that the king is alright after the attack, but I dare not risk being seen. Clenching my jaw in frustration, I tread softly to the back office and knock. At Fairy Godmother's gravelly welcome, I slip inside.

Candlelight casts a warm glow over the familiar space. Fairy Godmother looks up from her ledger, gray brows rising in surprise.

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